I Cried The Blood Against All Oppositions

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Authors Survival

To be an author of the present, and never speaking of the past, the mind cannot conceive the true meaning of historical aesthetics; the source of my instilment details, of the struggles just to stay alive, through indignation, betrayed into the dangerous character of an Author, I sought among the prosperity, to de program the destructions of a tube legations that toxins the mind, a free chose of birth, that constitute my liberty to speak, the army is not an army, when the warrior fights among each other, and the people suffer from the addictive addiction for power, what is revolution? When the windows are closed in, and there is no link, the miss conception of passage, Salvatore of righteousness; the loyalty died when the hero performed miracles.

But yet I found the aesthetics; modern Philosophy participated of the refinement, inflicting pain of the dead shall not rise, only if the truth is not told, my pen speaks of the dignity beyond death, the hero’s of inheritance shall not die, only if I choose to speak in darkness, without recovery of my dignity and those who walk with prophecies that was given by the Almighty God in heaven, but unto those who cultivate with their victorious arms of greed, I shall recite the constitution of justice, but unto my people who lived upon the abomination of man and earth which they defended with their blood; excluding the human God’s who dictate the solitary of un spoken truth.

Nevertheless the sensitivity of truth may contaminate the order that has been resolve to an un civilized institution of dead man bureaucracies, I have travel places where no man has gone, subsided by the human death chambers of mind, but yet I conceive my proclamation of educational success through the congestion that the roots shall rise below the porous of the dead roots. In this hierologic prescriptions of those who continue to archive the historical events, consistently to an assertion of the rights of man, and the rights of Nature and events,

I give unto man the blue print of this divesting world, and man who close their eyes to the restitutions of change, yet on this first, and probably last occasion, in this resolution of aesthetics should I embark to see a cause like this rescued from the embroidery of my pen, if I exhort my reevaluations my pen shall become weak, in which I shall obtrude my Sentiments upon the world, I may be sensitize, if I inscribe a piece, whose only merit is the humanity and freedom of its historical lies, sentiments to darkness, shall only submerse the retro active completions of truth, I have principally on this journey under all odds of adjustment to derived them of biblical and historical facts. Beneath a milder sky let peace introduce the genius and arts and the libations of the ancestries, and the integrity without insuring their duration, to invoke passion and let philosophy and science glory in a race of illustrious disciples the prophets’ seminary of spiritual grace.

I'll hear the voices, the ancestors of yesterday, Virtue's legacy of tongues Shall sound against genocide of race, Unto I focus on humble, shall not my dignity be inherited as cowardly infirmity, I stand by the instructions of the Almighty God, and Jesus the son of the savior, I take my instructions, with great wisdom of the stroll, Let thy brother stand in accord, let not their supplier of death, shall the sons of Commerce, fear not the wrath, loyalty if not embraced, worse than the midnight devil, Fear not the marksmen plan.

Suffering through the darkness of UN

Recovery, Libation I stand at attention,

trying to understand, the darkness

that lies upon the earth,

Division stronger than the rivers that rise

upon mans feet , The blood that runs from

my veins, I shall take the lashing of the world,

I shall not stand still, I shall run through the

trill of fields, where my ancestors built the liberation,

I shall run with the torch, sub servant to the lord,

crying no victim song, no longer shall I stand still,

summoned from the hill of justice

the resurrection of change, until I

spread the words of the Almighty God.

my people to the mountain, when will we

break the indoctrination of hatred

disregarding all the laws of God, shall

we get it right? I herd it on the mountain

of recovery, one hand on the clock.

The Universe slowly comes to and end.

My native land that lives by the accordance

of the devil, after the legacy of our ancestors,

multi color rainbow, have we come to

a calamity, where man no longer care?

The treason that sits upon the doors of our ancestors;

The doors slowly closing, silhouetted by Satan, The scars

of my hand, whispering the history, thou wisdom, thou

love, waves fair well. Thou slave of avarice,

that can’t stop the mind.

The cancer of death, betrayal of a lost soul, trying to find self, The cage bird sings no victim song, He look upon the earth, He knows his space of sanctuary, And would not be captured by the beast, Dignity to man, if not kept safe, belligerency, shackles, deny my self of a mind, Ringing the chimes of inner death, Give me dignity are give me death, hatred of a memory, conformity, to another mans pledge. Hear the bellowing sounds rising up from the depths of humanity, Life is death, death is life, crying out to the soul of men words spoken, being placed in discord, words of peace. The soul of a poet, Life after death. You shall embrace the words of ancient times, Through the universal space of mind .The peaceful place of integrity. Perhaps, you will hear the words, of calm, written from the poet within. The toxins of suffering, the sleeping darkness, the soul that rejects the formality of deterring ways.

Love calms the inner peace; I shall live, as my words, spoken with love. Poet after death, my words continue to live on. Darkness has no power off my pen. I live within, the words of a poet, death shall not, stop the spoken words, Life is death, Death is life, Poet the prophet of spoken words

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